An Artist's Dream
by DatAssRomano
Summary: Well, to be honest, Canada was hot, and nice to paint. Romano couldn't help it- in fact, it was America's fault for trying to set them up. ((RomaCan, Romanada, CanMano, whatever you want to call it))


**# An Artist's Dream(Romanada) #**

**I'm not really in the mood to write something fluffy, but I told myself I needed to stop writing sadistic/violent/suicidal/pornographic/cutter type fanfiction, so I tried. **

**Leave me a review so I know if I suck or not? I will love you forever~ or at least until you die because SOMEONE'S A FRICKIN YANDERE. *glares at Eris-Chan suspiciously* Anyway, enjoy!**

### ####

"Hey, Lovino, let's go get icecream!"

Romano turned and his disinterested gaze landed on two blondes, one slightly hiding behind the other. The one standing in front had a huge, bright smile and eyes the colour of the ocean lit up by sunlight. The second was different, somehow. His eyes were a violet-blue, something rare, and the Italian felt his hard look dissolve as he saw the other. He had the strange urge to paint that one. The first was America, he knew that much, he mulled as he processed what had been said. The second was...his brother?

"So, dude, you up for it?"

"Are we going out for real icecream or your processed shit?" Romano shot back.

"Whatever you like! I know a good place, c'mon!"

### ####

Romano was tugged along, grumbling all the way, but secretly he didn't mind, because it meant he got to get a better look at the angel who looked like that idiot who was eating an icecream with _ten fucking scoops_. Unfortunately, his staring had been noticed, and the man ducked his head at noticing the attention, his face going red. Romano looked away hurriedly, feeling his own face light up like it was Christmas. That had been an incredibly stupid move, even for him. Why had he just been...staring? He probably looked like such a creep, fucking hell. Couldn't he do anything r-

"Um...my name's Matthew."

Romano blinked.

"I...er...we haven't met officially before, so I thought you might want to know my name...or not...I guess..."

"No, it's fine, bastard. Jeez. I'm guessing McFatty over there already gave you my name?"

"...no, I knew it before then."

He brushed off the whispered comment, not even hearing half of it and being assured it wasn't anything important. Matthew, eh? It wasn't...angelic at all. How ironic. He snuck a glance at the Canadian again, who was playing with his phone, the sleeves of his hoodie nearly overflowing onto his pale hands. He had nice hands, the Italian thought absently as he fiddled with his nails, not doing anything in particular. His gaze flickered to America, who was talking animatedly to the guy who served the icecream, his hands waving around crazily. How the hell were those two related?! Not to mention Matthew had better hair.

### ####

Over the course of the next month, Romano was forced along to a million outings with the so-called North American brothers, and spent most of his time halfheartedly attempting to get Canada to speak to him. It worked, surprisingly enough, and soon he was finding more about the down-to-earth angel he had met. The differences between he and his brother were astronomical. Canada was intelligent, witty, interesting...and America was just _America_.

### ####

"So...I was wondering whether you'd come back to my place..."

"...hm? What do you mean, Lovino?"

"I...er...I have something to ask you."

"Aw, are you two leaving? Fun's just starting, dudes!"

"Al...go away."

Romano raised an eyebrow at the instant brush-off America was given as Canada stood and smiled, a blush on his face still. It was...strangely adorable and he had to look away as he stood as well. He had to ask _now_. It wasn't that big a deal, surely, because he was pretty sure his brother and the damn potato bastard were doing it too. He didn't know about any of the other countries; and it wasn't like he was going to ask Spain and Belgium about it. They'd be creepy about it; stupid parents.

"L-lead the way, Lovino."

### ####

((Major timeskip))

On the wall stood a painting of an angel. It wasn't held by any canvas; in fact the wall _was_ the canvas.

"Eh...I can't believe this started because you wanted to _paint a picture_ of me. I thought you were going to ask me out," Canada said distantly, looking at the messily abstract swirls of paint adorning the Italian's bedroom. A quick glance to the side told him said brunette wasn't getting out of bed anytime soon. Romano shifted in the white sheets, rolling onto his stomach and resting his chin on his folded arms. A pout crossed his face as he processed what the blonde had said and he huffed, becoming defensive.

"Would you rather if I just fucked you then and there? I'm allowed to be innocent sometimes, bastard."

Canada laughed. "Now, now, Lovino, I think we all know who fucks who in this relationship."

"Do you want to get kicked out?!"

### ####

Somewhere not so far away, America was sitting with the unofficial yaoi club, a not-so-secret organisation led by Hungary and a Japanese man called Hidekaz Himaruya. They all wore very creepy grins, except for Estonia, who looked worried and a little embarrassed at his being there (but they needed his help with the cameras), and Japan, who was trying to stem his nosebleed with a tissue and being unsuccessful. America leaned back in his seat, giving Hungary a quick high-five.

"I knew this was going to be epic!"

"Even though it's crack, I like it!"

"Setting up my brother with Lovino was the best idea I've ever had!"


End file.
